For only a short while was the Erg man really needed. The three of them took long walks together so that Toory would become familiar with the neighborhood.
With the Instructor intently watching, Toory soon learned to lead the girl safely through the traffic of the village streets. Quickly he developed a sixth-sense alertness to the dangers to Babs that must be seen, and avoided. That was the important thing—avoiding danger to this blind girl whose hand he held, avoiding it so that instantly with permanent order for automatic action instilled in him, his response would come with split-second timing.
The voice of the Instructor remained everlastingly patient when for the hundredth time he repeated the permanent-order so that it would be impressed on Toory beyond the possibility of error.
"Danger to Miss Babs must be avoided, Toory. Danger to Miss Babs. Any danger. Do you understand, Toory?"
"Yes," Toory replied.
He learned all the traffic signals quickly. He was pleased with a warmth inside him that kept getting brighter. "He's all right," the Erg man said at last. "We've certainly given him plenty of tests, Miss Doret. His reactions are all that could be desired."
"Yes," Babs agreed. "You've no idea how comforting it is, how safe I feel."
It was nice that she was pleased. She asked, "You're not mixed up about anything, Toory?"
"No," Toory replied.
Then the Erg man went away, and Toory's independent service began. It caused him no confusion. There were the daily walks with Miss Babs, sometimes shopping trips to the village, and visits to the homes of her friends. Everywhere Toory was admired, so large and shining a model he seemed, so comprehensive and smooth of response. Toory glowed inwardly. His brain-tapes received the warmth, and his memory etched it down.